#alwaysforyouscully

Mulder enters the room quietly. Someone must have forgottento close the blinds; soft, milky moonlight fills the room. Heavy steps carryhim to Scully’s bedside. She’s turned towards the window, fast asleep. In hersleep, she looks peaceful. Right now, he doesn’t see the pasty paleness of herskin or the hollow darkness under her eyes. If he wanted to, just for a moment,he could pretend. He wants to pretend. 

As he stands there watching her, hewishes, and not for the first time, that their roles were reserved. It shouldbe him in that bed, fighting. But he’s just standing here, a helpless observer.Breaking apart on the inside, piece by piece. He touches a lock of her hair,half hoping she will wake up, but she slumbers on, undisturbed. How will he goon without her? One day soon (too soon), this silence will be his partner. Hisonly companion. The thought brings him to his knees. When was the last time heheard her laugh? Saw her smile, even? Was the last time… the last time, ever?

In his need to touch her, to feel her alive against hisskin, he puts his face on her hand. It’s sleepy warm, alive. Before any ofthis, in unguarded moments, he thought of them together. He thought they hadtime. There was always something to run after, something to discover, to solve.Now time has run out and all he wants is another day with her in a car,arguing, while she calls him crazy. Smile at him in that special way that hesecretly thinks she reserves for him. This is all they have now; fragmentedmoments in stolen nights. 

He kisses Scully’s knuckles with shaky lips. Histhroat is closing up as he tries to keep the tears at bay. It’s no use. Theytrickle down his cheeks, onto her hand and the sheets underneath. The need toscream overwhelms him. Can’t, can’t, can’t, his mind chants. Can’t lose her,can’t let go.

“Mulder?” Scully’s drowsy voice makes him look up.

“Hey,” he says, clearing his throat, “why areyou awake? Did I wake you?”

“Hmm, I think so. What time is it?”

“Late,” he answers as he sees her try to sit up.“Don’t get up. You need to sleep. I’m going to leave you alone.”

“No, wait,” she says, reaching out to him andholding his hand tightly in hers; there is so much strength left in her.“Don’t leave just yet. I’m just waking up.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, stillkneeling by her bedside. His knees protest, but the physical pain is a welcomedistraction.  

“It’s fine,” she says, her lips twitching but notquite managing a smile. “Did anything happen? Why are you here?” She blinksslowly, almost as if in slow motion. He should leave her alone, let her go backto sleep. But he’s always been a selfish bastard, hasn’t he? Every second hegets to spend with her is a gift.

“Nothing happened,” he says; it’s a lie. There arethings he wants to talk to her about, but as he looks at her now, he realizesit’s not important. She is the only thing that matters right now. So he justsmiles at her, a bit sheepishly. “I just wanted to see you.” Not alie, just not the whole truth. It will do, for now.

“I’d invite you into my bed,” Scully says, thewords drawn out, “but there’s not enough space.” His first thought isthat she’s making a joke. A silly joke, haha, to lighten the mood. When he seesthe pout on her lips, though, her expression serious, he knows she is serious.

“It’s fine,” he croaks out. “I’m fine downhere.”

“Hmm, you’re warm.” Scully puts her face on hishand, as if she, too, needs the contact. Their faces are close now and he seesthat her pupils are dilated. He doesn’t know what they give her to sleep, to stopthe pain. His heart sinks; this playful Scully, while still the woman he knowsand loves at heart, is not herself, not at this moment. “There wasn’tanything you wanted?”

“Just to see you,” he repeats with a gentle smile.“But you should sleep now.”

“So should you,” she says and touches his face.Her fingers dance around his cheekbones, uncoordinated, and it tickles. “OhMulder.” Her voice turns serious as her fingertips find the puffy, stilldamp skin under his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he says, borrowing her words.

“You’ve been crying.”

“Allergies,” he jokes, giving her a shaky grin.

“You don’t have any,” she says, a crease forming inher forehead as if she were going through his medical history in her head.

“I do tonight. Don’t worry about me, Scully. Let me takecare of you for once, hm?”

“You always do,” she yawns and gives him anapologetic look. Her eyes grow smaller and smaller. Any minute now she willfall back asleep. “Mulder?”

“Hm?” He moves his head closer to hers so thattheir noses and foreheads are almost touching. Underneath the antiseptic and alltoo familiar hospital stench, she still smells like Scully.

“I’m tired,” she says and her voice is so wearythat, just for a second, he wonders if she’s talking about right now, or hercancer, all of this. He swallows hard.

“I know,” he whispers back. “Sleep now. I’llbe back in the morning, all right?” She yawns again and nods. His hand isstill under her head so he feels the movement rather than he sees it. It’s asif she doesn’t want him to leave. As much as he would like to stay, watch overher all night, the sharp pain in his knees prevents him from staying in thisposition much longer.

“I love you, you know.” It’s as if she’s said thewords a million times. She doesn’t falter or pause, her eyes on his, as seriousas he’s ever seen them. She loves him. She, Scully, loves him, Mulder. The wordsrepeat themselves in his head and he understands them on their own, I, andlove, and you. Together, directed at him, they don’t seem to make much sense.

“Scully, you…” But she’s already asleep. Her eyesare closed and her breathing is evened out. He looks at her a while longer,unable to leave just yet. Not after what she just said. Another lock of hairhas fallen into her face. He tucks it away gently with a smile before he freeshis other hand that she’s been using as a pillow. Scully doesn’t stir. Standing,he watches her. She loves him. Whether she’s drugged or not, she said thewords. He touches her cheek with two fingers, the desperate need to feel heronce more too strong to ignore. Who know how much time they have left.

“Love you, too,” he whispers into the sterilehospital air, but Scully doesn’t hear him, is lost in what he hopes are happy,colorful dreams.

In the morning, he returns to her room and smiles brightlywhen he sees her awake, looking at him.

“I came by last night, but I…,” he pauses. There’sno recollection on her face, nothing. She doesn’t remember any of it. Maybeit’s for the best. “I didn’t have the heart to wake you,” hefinishes. Just like he doesn’t have the heart to tell her now that she wasawake last night, that she talked to him. Told him that she loves him.

Another time. There will be another time.